


Happy Birthday, Zimmboni

by cablesscutie



Series: AU Please! [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Sex, Frottage, Jack's magical morning after pancakes, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Tender Loving Feelings, The Falcs, stripper! Bitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7153727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cablesscutie/pseuds/cablesscutie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Falcs throw Jack a birthday party and hire a surprise to lighten him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Party

The summer after his second year with the Falconers, Jack’s teammates throw him a birthday party. Not that he’s usually a party person, but it’s kept small by NHL standards. Just the guys who were still in town and a couple of the social media managers that were young enough to keep up when the team went out. They give Jack a heads up before breaking into his place to set up, just enough that he won’t panic when he walks in the door with his groceries to find his house overrun, but not so much warning that they can be refused. Jack hardly ever goes out with the team after wins, and while they understand that clubbing and binge drinking are not things that he finds fun, they are determined to see him cut loose.

That’s where Bitty comes in. They searched online for *ahem* _private dancers_ until they found a small site, run by the dancer, with great reviews. “Super sweet and super sexy!” “Artistry and class (with a fabulous ass)!” “So nice! So talented! 10/10 would hire again.” All that seemed to fit the bill. If Zimmboni was going to appreciate anything, it’s someone dedicated to their craft. Plus…

“For thirty dollars extra, add a sweet surprise...What do you think that means?” Snowy muttered, looking over Guy’s shoulder.

“I dunno.”

“Check it,” Thirty told him. “See what happens.” Guy clicked the box on the order form and another box appeared. 

“Does anybody in our party have allergies?” Guy read.

“So is this gonna be, like...food or something?”

“Well, now surprise for Zimmboni will be surprise for us too,” Tater said.

They filled out the rest of the form, checking that it was for a birthday, with twelve guests, client name: Jack, billing info, 

“Poots, go for it,” Guy spun the laptop around to him.

“Why me?”

“Rookie.”

“You’re single”

“My rock crush your scissor.”

“...Fine.”

With the order placed, the guys were free to get together the rest of the supplies they needed (mostly steak tips and beer) and cart them all over to Jack’s place while he was out at Stop & Shop. When he unlocked the front door, he greeted their call of “SURPRISE...kinda…” with a fondly exasperated smile. He was promptly pulled into one of Tater’s infamous bear hugs, which he returned, and then accepted a beer from Snowy.

“Thanks, you guys. This is great.” 

Guy’s smirk and “Don’t thank us yet,” threw him a little but he was easily distracted by Marty passing him a plate heaped with food. They played video games and one (never to be repeated) round of Catan (“What the fuck, how did he get so many sheep??” “Patience.” “This is cruel.” “I’m not breaking any rules.” “Oh go fuck a sheep.”) before it was time to corral Zimmboni for his “present.”

“You guys didn’t have to get me anything, really,” Jack insisted as they guided him to the dining room chair they’d decorated with balloons and streamers.

“We just want you to be happy, Zimmboni,” Tater told him, resting his giant hands on Jack’s shoulders heavily and forcing him the rest of the way into his seat. They were only waiting another couple of minutes before there was a knock at the door. Jack moved to get up, but Tater intercepted him and Snowy, Guy, and Poots crowd the door. Jack got a suspicious frown, but sat back down cautiously, going along for the moment.

When the Falcs opened the door, their grins faded into confusion upon finding a short blonde man in a skimpy bunny costume holding a cake carrier.

“Um…” Snowy trailed off.

“Hello!” the Bunny man greeted, smiling widely. “I’m Bitty, here for Jack’s party?”

“Who’s at the door?” Jack called from inside the apartment.

“Give us a minute!” Snowy called back.

“This...is Jack’s birthday party, right?”

“Uh...yeah.” Bitty looked around at the three large men who were very surprised to see him, and his smile faded into some kind of resigned semi-frustration.

“Y’all didn’t know I was a man did you?”

“Uh…”

“Eloquent as ever, Snowy,” Guy took over. “Yeah, sorry, we kind of assumed you were a woman, which...yeah, we probably should’ve checked. This was a bit of a last minute idea?”

“So nobody called the number on the website?” They all shook their heads. “And - wait, _Snowy_?” Bitty studied all of their faces a little closer, and his eyes widened before narrowing in annoyance. He watched enough Sports Center to recognize some of their faces. “This is a Falconers party, isn’t it?” They nodded. “And I’m willing to bet that Jack is Jack Zimmermann?” They glanced at each other, then back to the unimpressed bunny. They nodded again. “So y’all mean to tell me,” he sounded an awful lot like a scolding mother at this point. “That you are NHL players - a whole house full of famous people - and none of you thought to vett the stripper for Jack Zimmermann’s birthday party?” 

“Um...I guess that’d be a no,” Snowy said. “Sorry, man. Our B.” Bitty heaved a sigh. “ _Our B_.” Next comes the polite request for him to leave because _“thanks but no thanks, we’re all straight.”_ Bitty steeled himself, unsure why he was so upset. It was a simple misunderstanding, and he’d already gotten the payment info anyway, so it’s not like he lost anything by coming over. It’s just...standing in the hallway in a sexy bunny suit in front of a group of hetero jocks feels very uncomfortably like high school. 

Of course that’s when Jack Zimmermann himself joined them at the door and looked down at Bitty. He frowned, and then looked at his teammates, and then frowned a little more before asking, “Um, who are you?”

“Uh...I’m Bitty.” Jack cocked his head a little and raised an eyebrow. More explanation then. “I uh…” He looked at Poots’s wide eyes and decided to cover for them. “I brought the cupcakes.” He held up the carrier, which did contain cupcakes that spelled out HAPPY BIRTHDAY JACK.

“Oh. But…” Jack was clearly trying to figure out how the bunny costume factored into this, and had also clearly been raised better than to outright ask what the hell Bitty was doing. Bitty bit his lip, and Jack’s eyes tracked the motion quickly before snapping back to Bitty’s eyes, still expecting some kind of answers. Guy and Snowy kept it together, even if Guy did appear to be biting down on a giggle fit. They would’ve been fine though, if Poots hadn’t broken under the weight to Jack’s silence.

“We got you a stripper!” he blurted, and Jack whipped to face him, looking, blessedly, more baffled than anything else.

“You what?!”

“Bitty is a stripper we hired,” Guy admitted. Jack glances at Bitty again before asking them,

“Why did you get me a male stripper in a bunny costume?”

“Because they didn’t call ahead to make sure I wasn’t crazy or something, and therefore didn’t realize that I am in fact a man,” Bitty chimed in.

“You idiots invited a stranger from the internet to my house?”

“Well...kinda, yeah,” Snowy admitted. “But he brought cupcakes.”

“They’re peanut butter with maple icing.” Jack looked at the carrier with poorly disguised longing, and then back up to Bitty, face softening.

“I’m sorry about all of this.” Bitty smiled at him gently, and reassured,

“It’s fine. Not your fault anyway. S’pose teammates are like family. You don’t get to pick ‘em.” 

Jack actually laughed a little at that, just a small huff of air, but he was smiling.

“Well, since you came all the way out here, can we at least offer you dinner? They grilled enough for an army.” Bitty was surprised to say the least, but pleasantly so. Jack Zimmermann: Scowling Hockey Robot and Polite Canadian, who would’ve thought?

“Um, sure, thank you.” Bitty managed, and followed Jack inside, the other three trailing behind in shock. The other guests, who had trying to eavesdrop on the conversation as best they could snapped back into “casual” conversation as Jack led Bitty through the living room and into the kitchen where the food was laid out. “Where should I put the cupcakes?” Bitty asked.

“Oh! Um...I’ll take those for you,” Jack said, taking the carrier over to the fridge. “Help yourself. The potato salad is really good.”

“Zimmboni!” Tater called, stepping in from the living room. “Who is this? This not costume party, bunny man.” Bitty froze, fork sticking out of his mouth.

“This is Bitty,” Jack introduced him, and by the look of confusion on his face, he’d been in on the surprise as well.

“You are Bitty?” The bunny man in question nodded, swallowing his mouthful of (admittedly pretty good) potato salad.

“I am Bitty, yes.” Tater still looked a little unsure. “You guys never called to make sure I was a girl. I am not.”

“I see. Well I am Alexi. My friends call me Tater.”

“Oh. Did you make the potato salad? It was lovely.” Jack laughed again, retrieving a couple of beers from the fridge as he stashed the cupcakes.

“No, no.” Tater chuckled, shaking his head. “I grill. Thirdy make potato salad.”

“You do not want to try Russian potato salad,” Jack told Bitty. “It’s horrifying.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Beer?” Bitty shot him a comically desperate look.

“Please.” Jack smiled and popped both bottles open, handing one over.

They rejoined the party, and space was made for Bitty to squeeze in on Jack’s sofa. Jack himself sat on the floor close by, trying his level best not to careen off the Rainbow Road. Again. He was into it though, playing with his whole body, and on one turn, he leaned so far, Bitty had to stick out his leg to keep Jack from falling over. The next round was a more sedate Coconut Mall run, and one of the wheels was passed to Bitty. He and Jack ended up duking it out for first, with Bitty only managing to eke ahead after a well placed green shell.

“Damn,” Snowy let out a low whistle. “Sucks to suck, man.”

“Oh, shut up.” Jack shoved at his knee, and turned to Bitty to ask, “How the hell did you do even aim that thing?” Bitty cracked his knuckles and grinned.

“Years of practice. I practically minored in Mario Kart.”

“So I’m not missing too much of the college experience?”

“Nah, this is pretty much it. Y’all are a bit different than the guys on my old team, though.”

“You played hockey?” Jack asked, turning around to face Bitty.

“Oh, well now you’ve gone and done it,” Marty groaned. “You brought up the h-word. Way to go, new guy.”

“Um, yeah. I played for Samwell, all four years.”

“Shit, div one? Nice.” Snowy offered his fist for a bump, which Bitty returned, actually feeling a pang of nostalgia. He hadn’t quite realized how much he’d been missing his friends lately, but talking hockey and playing video games had been his life, and the ridiculous bros on the team were his family. Hanging with Jack and the Falcs felt oddly comfortable, given the bizarre way the night had started.

“You must’ve been really good,” Jack said. Bitty felt his cheeks flush at the compliment.

“Oh I was alright. I’d been a figure skater when I was a kid, so I was fast. Wasn’t much for checking though,” Bitty winced a little at that. Jack frowned, thinking something over, before saying,

“Wait, were you with Samwell when they went to the Frozen Four?” 

“Mmhm,” he nodded, smiling proudly. “Both years.”

“I remember you. You were the little guy who kept spinning.”

“Zimms remembers you from an NCAA game he watched two years ago. And you’re apparently ‘alright.’” Marty scoffed. “You’ve got skills.” Bitty blushed, but he was smiling.

“You really were something,” Jack told him, and his blush deepened.

“Look what you do now, Zimmboni, you embarrass him,” Tater chirped, but Bitty held his gaze, biting at his lip to keep from smiling too wide.

Everybody goofed around for a while afterwards, finishing off the last of the food, drinking the leftover beer, and getting in one more round of gaming before the guests started to peter out. A few at a time, they called their Ubers to collect them and headed home, wishing Jack a final happy birthday and telling Bitty it was nice to meet him, until Tater gave them each a squeeze and left as well. As the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house, Bitty startled and looked around, seeming to realize that he was the last remaining guest.

“Oh my! I - I suppose I best get out of your hair so you can get to sleep,” he stammered, hopping up from the couch. “Or…” He glanced around at the mess surrounding them. It wasn’t too bad, but there were dishes and cups and bottles dotting almost every flat surface. “Do you want some help picking up?” Bitty offered.

“No, no, you don’t have to,” Jack told him, standing up and moving to keep Bitty from reaching for the stack of plates on the coffee table. “I can do it.”

“Jack, please do not make me leave you here to clean up your own birthday party.” Jack looked into his warm brown eyes and saw that the idea really did bother him, and held back a sigh.

“Alright. Thank you.” Bitty gave a curt nod and started stacking solo cups into a tower. “Although I’ll have you know, if my mother knew I was letting a guest clean up, she would be furious.”

“And _my_ mother would be furious if she knew I left someone’s house a mess.”

They talked as they cleaned, conversation with Bitty flowing easily. Jack found himself really enjoying having the company. Usually he was relieved to be alone after having to be around so many people, even friends, all day, but everything about Bitty was warm and sweet, and he seemed content to chatter on, undemanding, providing background noise as they cleared the living room and then the kitchen.

“Oh, we forgot to pass out the cupcakes!” Bitty lamented, upon seeing the carrier sitting untouched.

“Do you want one now?” Jack asked. “There’s no way my diet plan will let me eat all of these.”

“Well I _suppose_ I could be persuaded to do you that _gigantic_ favor,” Bitty drawled, reaching over to grab the cupcake with the most icing.

“My savior.”

Jack and Bitty curled up on the couch with their cupcakes, still talking softly, Bitty telling stories about his college team that had Jack laughing so hard he got a stitch in his side, and Jack talking about the summer classes he took at URI, slowly working towards a history degree. The conversation rolled on, long after the cupcakes were polished off, Jack’s eyes going a little dark at the sight of Bitty licking maple frosting from his fingers. Bitty scooted a little closer on the couch, and Jack mirrored him, until they were pressed up against each other, voices pitched low, but not sleepy.

It wasn’t much of a surprise when Jack kissed him. Sure, Bitty had been hanging back and letting him make the first move, but he knew attraction when he saw it. It was part of his profession after all. He just hadn’t been sure if Jack knew. Guessing by the skill with which he kissed and how quickly he had Bitty gasping against his mouth, Jack knew quite a lot of things.

After a few minutes, Bitty’s neck started to cramp from the angle, and he broke away to swing a leg over Jack’s hips. Seated more comfortably on his lap, Bitty went to lean in again, but Jack hesitated.

“Um, Bitty, is this okay? Maybe we shouldn’t…” Bitty cupped his jaw, thumb brushing over Jack’s cheekbone, and tilted their foreheads together.

“It’s after midnight, darlin’. I’m off the clock.”


	2. The Morning After

Bitty blinked his eyes open and stretched, enjoying the slide of soft sheets against his skin. His spine popped, and he sunk back into the mattress, absorbing the warmth from the morning sun and the body behind him. The arm around his waist tightened, and Jack shifted closer, pressing himself all along Bitty’s back.

“Allo,” his voice was low and scratchy in Bitty’s ear, rough stubble and soft lips against his neck a pleasant contrast that sent shivers down his spine. “Tu es très beau en le matin.” Bitty may have moaned a little at that. He rolled over to face Jack, whose other arm slipped around his back to fully embrace him. Jack pressed his face into Bitty’s hair and breathed in, exhaling a soft hum.

“Speaking French in bed?” Bitty teased. “Are you trying to seduce me, mister?”

“Sorry, English is my second language,” Jack said sheepishly. “Sometimes it takes a minute to switch.” Bitty kissed his collarbone.

“I like it. It’s a beautiful language. And you have a beautiful voice.”

“Well if you think that, you should hear me give an interview.” Bitty looked up so their eyes met.

“Oh, I have. You sound like a Canadian hockey robot.” Jack laughed a little, low in his chest.

“Can’t say I disagree.”

“But you and I both know you don’t sound like that all the time,” Bitty reminded him, eyes going dark and hooded, clearly thinking of Jack gasping and shaking apart the previous night.

“We should probably talk,” Jack murmured, lips against Bitty’s forehead.

“Mm,” Bitty agreed. “What do you want to talk about?” He ran a hand up and down Jack’s side, feeling the muscle covering his ribs, and letting his thumb wander over to brush a nipple. Jack sucked in a quick breath, eyes falling shut, and rested his forehead against Bitty’s.

“For starters, I still don’t know your name.” Bitty smiled mischievously.

“Eric Bittle, pleased to meet you.” In lieu of a handshake, he reached down to rub Jack’s cock through his underwear. Jack’s hips jerked forward, chasing the friction, and rolled against Eric’s, pulling a gasp from both of them. “Maybe we should finish talking over breakfast?” Jack nodded, a little frantically, grabbing at Eric’s ass to pull him closer with one hand, the other hiking Eric’s leg over Jack’s hip to slot their bodies together better. Eric snapped the waistband of Jack’s boxer briefs at his hip, and Jack groaned at the sting, and kissed him hard and hungry. “Off,” he panted, pulling away for a second and giving another tug. Jack obediently ditched the underwear, and when he pulled Bitty back into his arms, they were skin on skin.

“Eric,” Jack breathed against his lips. Eric tangled a hand in Jack’s hair, pulling a little at the roots, and thrust against him. They were clinging to each other too tightly to have much range of motion, and the build of pleasure was achingly slow. Bitty nipped gently at the thin skin of Jack’s throat, careful not to leave marks that would get him chirped in the locker room. Jack on the other hand was working a rather impressive bruise into the space just below Eric’s jaw. “Fuck,” he panted, breaking away and pressing his forehead against Bitty’s temple and kissing his cheek sloppily.

“Is that a suggestion, or…” Bitty teased, grinding against him with a particularly tortuous twist of his hips.

“No, Jesus,” Jack groaned. “I’m not going to last for that.” Bitty’s answering giggle was cut off with a gasp. Their pace quickened, hands slipping on sweat-slick skin, soft moans and heaving breaths ringing out in the quiet of the bedroom. 

Jack came with a choked off cry, gripping tightly to Bitty. As he trembled through the aftershocks, Bitty followed, high breathy sounds slipping out from kiss-bruised lips. His fingernails left purple crescent marks on Jack’s shoulder. 

Their breaths evened out gradually, as they lay loose-limbed and sated in each other’s arms. Jack groped around for his boxers to clean them up, and flung them across the room before gathering Bitty against his chest again.

“Talking later was definitely a good idea,” Bitty broke the silence. Jack huffed a laugh, breath blowing through the soft mop of Bitty’s beadhead.

“I agree.” His eyes drooped and fluttered closed, but Bitty poked him in the cheek, flashing a playful smile when he gave a grunt of protest.

“Come on, sleepyhead. If you go back to sleep we’ll just keep goin’ ‘round in circles all day.”

“What’s so bad about that?” Jack asked, walking his fingers up the notches of Bitty’s spine. As if in reply, Bitty’s stomach growled.

“For starters, I might waste away.”

“Can’t have that.”

“So we may just have to make our way to the kitchen.”

“That may be true.” Bitty leaned in quick and nipped Jack’s bottom lip, before sitting up, Jack’s arms slipping down to loop around his hips.

“Lucky for you, I am a fantastic cook,” he told Jack, who then hurried to follow as Bitty slid out of bed.

“Oh no, I am making you pancakes.”

“You cook?” Bitty asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “If protein powder is in any way involved in this, I am taking over,” he warned. Jack laughed, reaching out to take Bitty’s hand and pull him into a quick kiss.

“I will have you know, I make great pancakes. It’s one of about three things I can actually do well in the kitchen, so just let me impress you this once, please?” Eric laughed, the sound stirring something warm and fond in Jack’s chest.

“Alrighty then, impress away, Mr. Zimmermann.” Bitty retrieved his briefs from where they’d been tossed the night before and stepped into them. Jack started to help him look for the rest of his things, before he realized that Bitty’s things included a very small bunny suit half kicked under the bed.

“Um, Eric, do you want to borrow a t-shirt or something?” Eric looked a bit surprised to turn and find Jack holding the costume by its ears, and he flushed a little.

“That’d be nice, yes,” he said, nervously combing his fingers through his hair. 

Jack rifled through his drawers until he came up with an old Habs t-shirt that he’d had so long that the logo was faded and the collar stretched. It was incredibly soft though, and Eric, although his body was wound with lean muscle, had the sort of personality that made Jack feel strongly that he should always be kept warm and soft like this morning. He handed the shirt over, watching unabashedly as Eric slipped it over his head. The slight red of beard burn on his right collarbone was still visible and Jack felt a thrill when Eric rubbed the material between his fingers and thumb. Jack took his hand again as they walked to the kitchen, only letting go when Eric squeezed and released, drifting over to the coffee maker while Jack rifled through the pantry for pancake ingredients.

“Blueberries or no?” He asked, hovering indecisively at the freezer.

“Yes please,” Eric said over his shoulder, reaching up on tiptoe to grab the bag of coffee from the high shelf. “How strong do you like it?” Jack shrugged.

“Medium?”

“Perfect.” They worked around each other quietly, but comfortably, exchanging glancing touches and quick pecks as they orbited. Jack served up two plates of blueberry pancakes, and Eric poured two mugs of coffee, setting the cream and sugar down on the table beside the syrup.

“So,” Jack started after the first couple of bites were swallowed. “About this talk...what exactly does it entail?”

“Oh!” Eric blushed. “Well, er, I suppose I’m curious what this is. You - I mean, you’re not out, obviously, so…” Jack let out a breath and set his fork aside for the moment.

“Right. I’m not, but…” he reached for Eric’s hand, and brushed his thumb over his knuckles. “I like you. And if it’s alright with you, I’d like to see you again.”

“You’re sure? Because if this was just a hookup - Well I’ll admit I’d be sad - Jack, I would never out anybody, ever. Especially not somebody who has such little privacy already.” Jack laced their fingers together.

“I’m sure. Hookups aren’t really my thing, but thank you.”

“So...we’re dating?” Jack nodded, smiling warm and affectionate.

“I would like to be, yes.” Bitty smiled back, and forked another bite of pancake.

“Good, because I’d like to be too.”

They kept holding hands over the breakfast table, trading stories back and forth, until Bitty reluctantly admitted he had lunch plans with a friend and should be on his way.

“Did you drive over?” Jack asked.

“No, I live close by, I just walked.”

“In the bunny suit?” Eric shrugged.

“People have seen stranger things on a Saturday night.”

“Would you like a ride back?” He looked at Bitty, still dressed in underwear and the Habs shirt. “And maybe some sweatpants?” Both offers were accepted, and the bunny costume was packed in a bag with the cupcake carrier.

Eric really did live close by, and as he was putting his number into Jack’s phone, Jack wasn’t sure if he was disappointed that he had to say goodbye so soon or excited that it would be so easy to see him again. Regardless, his heart tripped in his chest when Eric broke him out of his thoughts by leaning over the gear shift to kiss him goodbye. Jack was still smiling at the passenger door long after Eric had gone inside.


	3. Lunch With Lardo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cinnamon buns the size of human heads and lots of texting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so ridiculously long to write! I got sidetracked by so many WIPs, it's truly insane. I even started a sideblog just for my zimbits prompt fills (imaginezimbits.tumblr.com) and now it's midterms, so /of course/ the muse is back! I have no idea where this story is headed, but it looks like Shitty's gonna get to meet Jack soon so...stay tuned for that :-)

The text from Lardo had been ominous.

**1:07 am**

**LD: wat do u mean dont wait up? Wtf r u doin?**

**EB: um...how much of an answer do you need?**

**LD: where r u & who r u w/?**

**1:10 am**

**LD: ur not still w/ a client r u???**

**1:15 am**

**EB: um. Well...he’s not a client anymore?**

**LD: eric. bitty bro. tell me ur not doin what i think ur doin.**

**1:37 am**

**EB: sorry got distracted. Um. well...he’s not the one who paid me? And it’s after midnight so technically i’m off…?**

**LD: BITS WTF GIVE ME THE ADDRESS NOW**

**1:42 am**

**LD: ERIC RICHARD BITTLE**

**LD: ANSWER ME OR I’M CALLING THE COPS**

**LD: AND YOUR MOTHER**

**EB: sorry sorry sorry! I’m alive! I’m totally fine! See?!**

**EB:[attch: jpg 148663247]**

**LD: i guess i trust ur judgement for now. but u text me as soon as u wake up and we’re getting lunch at annie’s to fckn CHAT. PAL.**

**3:14 am**

**EB: ilysm <3333333333 I’ll see you tomorrow. Lunch is on me. Sorry for making you worry. Night.**

Now, Bitty acknowledged that he was probably going to die and never get to open his bakery, or get the last of Moomaw’s secret recipes, or see Jack bleary eyed and stubbled in the morning ever again. Because Lardo was gonna fucking kill him. Because when he looked at his reflection in the window next to the table, there it was: a monster hickey. And he suddenly remembered faintly that morning, Jack biting and sucking at the skin there, and how at the time it had made his blood hum, made him forget that Jack was marking him up in an _extremely noticeable_ way.

**11:40 am**

**EB: JACK! YOU GAVE ME A HICKEY THE SIZE OF JUPITER’S SPOT**

**JZ: Oh no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I should’ve. Sorry, I won’t do it again.**

**EB: I mean...you don’t have to totally swear off…**

**JZ: ;-) That so?**

**EB: oh my lord you are just too cute but lardo is gonna chirp the hell out of me for this**

**JZ: haha.**

“Yo, Bits!” Lardo was standing at the door, waving. Her expression was concerningly neutral but at least she didn’t look as pissed as she’d sounded the night before.

“Hey!” He waved back and made his way over to her, stepping together into line. “So, how’s Shitty?” Bitty asked, staring up at the menu despite having it well memorized.

“Don’t small-talk me, Bittle. We don’t believe in that where I’m from. Spill it.”

“Um...Well...so last night was...interesting.”

“Yeah, your little friend there told me that already.” Lardo poked the hickey, and Bitty flinched away, covering the spot with his hand. “What the fuck, bro? You’re like super strict with your rules. No touching, no name, no repeats.”

“He wasn’t the one who put in the order. His friends thought I was a girl and they’re morons so they didn’t call to check first and he felt bad that they made me come all the way there so…” They reached the front of the line, and Bitty ordered his caramel latte and Lardo’s black coffee along with two cinnamon buns the size of his head. As soon as they got their plates, Lardo took a mammoth bite of her cinnamon bun and they took their food back to the table, where Lardo swallowed, propped her elbows on the table, and said,

“So this random-ass dude invited you to his birthday party because you showed up on his doorstep in a bunny costume and planning to get naked. And you thought it was a good idea to hang out with him literally all night.” Lardo crossed her arms over her chest, fixing him with her most judgemental look.

“No! I mean, well yes, but it - It wasn’t as creepy that sounds. I thought he was straight.”

“So you hung out with this guy thinking it was completely platonic and then he got all creepy.”

“I just told you it wasn’t creepy! He’s a very nice man and it’s a weird story but trust me, he was a perfect gentleman.”

“Swear on your Moomaw’s life this guy was good to you and he did not pay you to sleep with him.” 

“Are you serious?” A perfectly plucked brow ticked up her forehead. “Fine! I swear on my Moomaw’s life, he was a perfect gentleman. Everything was fully legal and consensual and all that good stuff. Happy?”

“While I may not fully approve of your choices, I acknowledge that you take your grandmother’s health very seriously so for the time being, I will not kick your ass or whatever ass you were tapping last night.” Lardo took a swig of her coffee, swallowing the steaming liquid down without flinching. Bitty sipped at his latte, considering whether it was finally safe to steer the conversation away from last night, when - “Deets.” A bit of foam went down the wrong pipe and he dissolved into a fit of wracking coughs. Lardo leaned over to give him a couple pats between the shoulder blades.

“Thanks,” he croaked out, then cleared his throat one last time.

“No problem brah. Now deets.”

“No.”

“Come onnnnnn. Biiiiiiitssssss.”

“Laaaaaardooooooooo. No.”

“One thing, just tell me one thing.”

“Fine. He makes wonderful blueberry pancakes.”

“Bits, that’s not deets. It’s super cute, but not deets.”

“I am not going to tell you what his penis looked like.”

“Spoil sport.” Bitty rolled his eyes. “Whatever, just tell me _something_ about the guy!” He put his latte down and started nervously unrolling his cinnamon bun, but finally took a deep breath and sighed in resignation.

“He has very nice eyes. They’re this gorgeous light blue color, and kinda sad lookin’, but they’ve got these little lines at the corners so you can tell he smiles a lot.” In spite of himself, Bitty found himself smiling at the memory, remembered noticing the tiny wrinkles as Jack was falling asleep.

“That’s sweet, Bits.” 

“I really like him.” Lardo reached across the table and took Bitty’s hand.

“ _Good_. It’s about time you found somebody that won’t ralph on your shoes on the first date. And I really hope that he’s a super awesome boyfriend and that we all become bffs with him, but just so you know, you say the word and I’ll have Rans and Holster hold him still while I rip out his spine.”

“I seriously doubt that’ll be a problem, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Bitty stuffed a strip of cinnamon roll into his mouth and swallowed it down with a sip of his drink. “So tell me about Shitty, how’s he doing? It’s been awhile since I talked to him.” Lardo’s grin softened into a fond smile.

“He’s still going screwy waiting for his BAR results to come back. And desperately hoping that he won’t have to take any of the job offers his father is trying to line up.”

“Is he trying to move down here?”

“He says he’s hoping to, but I don’t know if it’ll happen.”

“What about being a public defender?”

“Thought about it, but he’s not too sure how he feels about it. He wouldn’t get to choose his clients, ya know? Doesn’t want to get stuck having to defend someone awful when he really wants to be doing pro bono stuff. Sticking up for the little guy and shit. I think he’s leaning towards working for a non-profit, but apparently that’s more competitive than you’d think if he’s gonna get something that pays.”

“Ughhhh that’s literally the worst. I do not miss that about college.” Bitty rolled his eyes.

“What, you mean the prospect of owning your own business is better than being ‘paid in experience’?” They finished their coffees, Lardo filling Bitty in on what had happened during her shift at the cafe last night and how her latest painting was going . After they cleared their plates, they strolled home, arms linked. Lardo disappeared into her bedroom and shortly after, her painting playlist filtered through the thin walls. Bitty let himself flop onto the couch and pulled out his phone to text Jack.

**1:34**

**EB: Back from lunch, roomie didn’t kill me!**

**JZ: haha**

**JZ: so since you’re not busy being dead are you free saturday night?**

**EB: oml you’re too cute**

**EB: you have a game though, silly!**

**JZ: I was hoping you’d want to come see it? Maybe? You could bring friends.**

**EB: !!!!!!!**

**EB: um I would LOVE to come see you play!!!!**

**EB: just, uh, my friends don’t exactly know that you are YOU. I wasn’t sure if that was...supposed to be a secret?**

**JZ: Oh. Um. Not hugely? I wasn’t planning to like...officially come out, but I guess I’m not really interested in keeping it under lock and key.**

**JZ: Does that make any sense?**

**EB: So like Kent “glass closet” Parson?**

**JZ: ...no comment**

**EB: !!!!!!!!!!!!**

**JZ: I said no comment! I neither confirm nor deny!**

**EB: I won’t make you say anything. But just know that ~eventually~ the fan forums are gonna go berserk.**

**JZ: so totally not speaking of, how many tickets should I reserve?**

**EB: oh, um...is three too much?**

**EB: just, if I bring Lardo her boyfriend will be bummed cuz he loves hockey too**

**JZ: Three is perfect. Maybe the four of us can get something to eat afterwards?**

**EB: Like a double-date?**

**JZ: Kind of? Yes, I guess? I’d just really like to meet your friends.**

**EB: That’s so sweet.**

**EB: I’d really like you to meet my friends too.**

**EB: And Shitty is going to have a stroke when he sees you.**

**JZ: Can’t wait :-)**

**EB: You give your emoticons noses!? That’s so adorable I’m crying.**

**JZ: Don’t cry :’-(**

**EB: <3 <3 <3**


	4. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Falcs play the Aces, Jack meets Bitty's friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally managed an update again! Went to camp out at a coffee shop and work on my finals, ended up writing 3k totally unrelated to ANY of my classes! Nothing like academic responsibilities to get the creative juices flowing. #procrastination

_Fuck._ That was Jack’s first thought when he woke up on game day. _Fuck what am I doing?_ He sat up in bed, fingers combing through his hair, tugging on the ends and making his scalp tingle. Inviting Bitty to the game had seemed like such a good idea the other night, when he was sleepy and thinking only of big brown eyes and a lilting accent, but rested and in the light of day, he’s able to look at it more objectively and realize that he has made a _terrible_ decision. First of all, half his team knows who Bitty is, they were at the party when they met. Second of all, Jack’s not out to his team. At all. Even Tater, who Jack would currently consider his best friend, doesn’t know. And third, they’re playing the Aces. Whose captain just so happens to be Jack’s ex. Who will _definitely_ see through any half-assed attempts at “just friends” Jack makes and chirp him subtly but relentlessly.

And Jack _would_ just explain the situation to Bitty and ask to meet him somewhere after the game, but there wasn’t really a version of that conversation that he could see ending any way besides Bitty thinking Jack was ashamed of him and getting mad and breaking things off. Jack _really_ didn’t want to break things off. It had been so long since he liked anybody and Bitty was so nice. The thought of hurting him like that made something twist painfully in Jack’s chest. For all he’d treated Kent like shit when they were kids, he’d never liked being a bad boyfriend. Even years later and after many insistences that all was forgiven, Jack still had moments of guilt over the way things had been in Juniors.

He briefly considered calling Kent to ask what he should do, but closed out of his contact at the last second. Things between them were good, they were back to being friends, but still...calling out of the blue for advice about the new guy he was dating...it seemed kind of insensitive. So Jack called the only other person he knew who he could trust to understand where he was coming from.

“Morning, Jack!” Georgia Martin, assistant GM for the Falconers sounded alert as ever, if somewhat out of breath. He must’ve caught her on her morning run.

“Good morning. Um, if now’s a bad time, I can -”

“No, now’s perfect, I’m just jogging around the park. Is this call for business or pleasure?” Jack forced out a sound that may have sounded like a laugh to someone who had never heard Jack’s real laugh before.

“A little bit of both, actually,” He scratched at the back of his head, exacerbating his bedhead.

“Alright, lay it on me.” Jack swung his feet over the side of the bed and headed out to the living room. He figured this conversation was going to require space for pacing.

“So, um...you remember that conversation we had a little after I signed? About...my personal life?”

“...Yes?”

“So. I may have met somebody.” Georgia laughed, low and amused.

“I take it if you’re bothering to call me about it it’s more than a ‘may have.’ You’re not exactly one to get attached easy.” Jack nodded, then realized George couldn’t see that and admitted,

“There’s a guy.”

“Ahh, there it is. So who is he? What’s his deal? You know I’m gonna have to stalk the hell out of him, right?”

“Um, yeah, that’s...kind of the problem.”

“Hm?” Jack methodically started setting up the coffee maker just to give himself something to do with his nervous hands as he confessed,

“We kinda met at my birthday party.”

“Okay...so...is it another player?” It sounded like George had stopped running, her breathing even and the street noise in the background gone.

“Not in the NHL, no.”

“Is it someone from the farm team, then?”

“No, no. Hockey’s not why he ended up at the party. The guys kinda...hired him.”

“To?” George’s tone was creeping more towards nervous. Jack really wished the end of this explanation would relax her, but alas…

“Um. Dance. Like...you know.”

“Jack are you trying to tell me you’re dating the guy that stripped at your party? I didn’t know the guys even knew you were bi!”

“Um okay so, uh. They don’t. They’re just idiots who didn’t check him out first and so they thought _he_ was a _she_. So like...he didn’t _actually_ strip at the party? But he came all the way over and he’d brought cupcakes and it seemed rude to just send him home since it wasn’t _his_ mistake, so...I invited him to stay?”

“Oh good lord, Jack.” He could picture her pinching the bridge of her nose, eyes squeezed shut like every time someone on the team did something horrendously stupid.

“I know.” For a moment, the only sound was the burble of the percolator. “I really like him, George,” he said quietly. “I just don’t know what to do.” She sighed.

“Well...what’s going on that you needed to call me first thing in the morning? Did somebody see you two together?”

“No, no. But...I invited him and a couple of his friends to the game tonight.”

“ _Jack_.”

“I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking, I just wanted to see him.” She was quiet for another moment.

“You’re gonna have to come out to the team,” she told him gently. “If you want this guy to be around for the game. And if some of them already know him…”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. And it’s probably time? I’ve been here for a few years now, and I think they’ll be okay about it. I mean, they love you and Josie.”

“They’re good guys. I think they’ll have your back.”

“If I don’t die of the chirping, yeah. I’ll probably wait until after the game though. I don’t want to throw the locker room off, even if it’s in a good way.”

“That sounds reasonable. Are you thinking you’re gonna make a public statement?” Jack weighed the question, considering, before deciding,

“No, I - I don’t think I want to do the whole press conference thing. I just...want to live my life? It’s not like there’s much media attention on my personal life anyway. They just kind of figure I don’t have one.” George laughed.

“Yeah, that’s true I suppose. And we always have the emergency statement we drew up when you told me. If we need it, but unless you’re humping him at the farmer’s market, you’ll probably be left alone. Providence is pretty used to you by now.” Jack chuckled, appreciating her attempt to chill him out.

“And the - the dancing, that’s not a problem?”

“We may have to do something if it turns into a media thing, but for the time being, no.” He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much, George. Really, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“It’s no problem, Jack. I’m happy for you. Have a good game tonight, okay?”

“Okay, yeah. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Jack went through his usual pregame routine: jog, shower, plate of pasta and chicken, nap, and then a PB &J right before he headed out to the rink. He checked with the box office that they’d saved the tickets and texted Bitty to let him know they were reserved under “Eric Bittle” at will call.

**EB: thanks so much!!! Lardo and Shitty are pumped. Can’t wait to see you play! <3**

**JZ: <3 :-)**

Right after that, he shut his phone off and slid it into his gear bag where it would stay until he got out of press after the game. He sat next to Tater in strategy, taking notes and drawing out the plays as the coaches went over them so that he could drill them home in his memory, and afterwards they all headed to the locker room to get dressed for warm ups. 

As the Falconers were clearing off the ice for the Aces, Kent found Jack. He caught him by the sleeve and said,

“Hey Zimms, we still hanging after the game?” Usually after they played each other, they’d hang out together, with or without teammates depending on the mood after the game. Jack bit his lip but nodded.

“Yeah, sounds good. Just -”

“What? Do you want to bail? You don’t _have_ to hang out with me, you know.”

“No, no. Just, I invited a few people to the game tonight and so they’d be there too, but like, if you don’t mind, then I don’t.” Kent studied him for a moment before deciding that apparently Jack wasn’t up to anything. He nodded, letting go of Jack’s jersey.

“Fine by me. I didn’t know you had friends who weren’t hockey players. Are you finally becoming a beautiful social butterfly?” he chirped. Jack felt his cheeks warm.

“It’s kind of a new thing.” Parse’s eyes widened as he caught on.

“ _Ohhhh_ shit man.” He laughed, clapping his hands together. “Dude, I’m so breaking out the baby pictures tonight.”

“I would expect nothing less. See you on the ice.” He clapped Kent on the shoulder as he moved around him to follow the rest of his team back to the home locker room. 

The game went into OT. By that point, both teams had started to get tired and sloppy, so it essentially came down to goaltending. The Aces and the Falcs both let by an embarrassing amount of shots on goal, but in the end Snowy held out just long enough that the Falconers pulled ahead by one goal to win it. When Jack and Kent led their respective teams towards each other for handshakes and congratulations, they caught each other in a quick hug before moving down the lines, dispensing handshakes, high-fives, and fistbumps. The mood in the locker room was higher than it usually would be after such a close game, but the Aces were a good team, and ever since Jack and Kent reconciled, their teams had grown to really enjoy playing each other. Jack sat through press with only mild impatience, waiting for the locker room to be cleared of everyone besides the team. 

When the PR intern cleared the room for them, Jack whistled loud and sharp. The whole team turned to face him, their celebrating quieting down as they focused in on their captain.

“So, uh. Everybody played really hard out there tonight, and I’m proud of you all. But. I kind of have something I want to tell you guys, and I wanted to wait until after the game to do it -”

“You are not being traded, Zimmboni?!” Tater asked.

“No! No! It’s not bad! I just - Um. I’m bisexual. And I have somebody coming to the post-game celebration, and I just wanted to tell you guys ahead of time so you’re not all surprised when he gets here and you don’t freak him out.”

“It’s Parse!” Snowy called out. “Marty, you owe me ten bucks!”

“It’s not Parse!” Jack said. “Jesus you guys.”

“We know him right though? You don’t hang with anyone else!”

“Um. Well, some of you do?” The guys looked at him expectantly. “Euh. Remember Bitty, from my birthday?” While most of the team looked around in confusion, the guys who had planned Jack’s party stared at him, mouths agape.

“YOU BANGED THE STRIPPER?!” Poots yelled, before quickly being muzzled by Tater’s hand.

“Shhhhhh! Poots, do you want reporters to be knowing this?” he asked. “Close mouth. Zimmboni, this is true?” Jack went bright red as everyone’s attention returned to him, stronger than ever. He looked down at his shoes and then back up to Tater.

“Yeah. For the record though, his primary job is a baker. And his name is Eric.”

“Guys,” Poots smacked Marty on the chest. “The _sweet surprise_. It get it now, it was the cupcakes!” 

Nobody else really had much to say after that. There didn’t seem to be any problems with any of the information received, but the knowledge that their stoic captain 1. Was not straight 2. Had invited the guy he was seeing to a game and 3. That said guy was a baker/part-time stripper was just too much for them to process and had caused a mass system failure. He was sure that after everything had time to sink in, the chirping would be vicious and relentless, but for now he was going to enjoy the calm before the storm and hope that nobody freaked out on Bits.

Jack met Eric and his friends out back near player parking. He’d given the gate guard their names and asked him to let them hang out near the booth until he could go get them so they could avoid the craziness of the players’ tunnels post-game. Eric started waving as soon as he spotted Jack, who waved back and walked a little faster until he reached them.

“Fuckin sick game, bro,” said the long-haired mustachioed man standing with Eric.

“Thanks. Playing the Aces always motivates us to play great hockey.” Jack realized he sounded like he was still in the press scrum and tacked on “Plus Parse owes me dinner every time we kick his ass, so…” All three of them laughed, and Eric stepped forward to hug Jack, who smiled into his hair. 

“You played so well! Oh my lord, that was exciting,” he told Jack as he pulled back. Then he gestured to the woman beside Shitty. “This is Lardo, my best friend and lovely roommate. And this,” he gestured to Shitty, “Is her boyfriend -”

“B.S. Knight possibly attorney at law, at your service,” Shitty cut in, gripping Jack’s hand in an enthusiastic shake. “But my friends call me Shitty.” Jack laughed and accepted a fist bump from Lardo.

“Nice to meet you two.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Lardo said evenly. “For now.”

“Lardo…” Bitty warned.

“Oh come on, what’s a little shovel talk between friends?” she asked, smiling in a way that made Jack think more of a barracuda than any actual happiness. “Right, Jack?” Sensing that there was very much a right and a wrong answer to that question, Jack shrugged at Eric.

“I’m the new guy. I’ve gotta take my hazing.” Lardo gave the tiniest of nods.

“Oh man,” Shitty rubbed his hands together. “Does that mean we get to put him through Hazeapalooza?” That received an emphatic

“ _No,_ ” from Eric. Shitty kept trying to argue in favor of whatever their old college ritual had been as they headed for Jack’s car, and Eric kept cutting him off mid-sentence. Lardo caught up with Jack, falling into step beside him. He looked down at her, and she looked back up at him for a moment before rolling her eyes towards the boys behind them. Jack shook his head, smiling fondly, as Eric continued to steamroll all over Shitty’s exclamations of _“Naked, blindfolded, and bitch-ass shitfaced!”_

“Just remember,” Lardo murmured just loud enough for Jack to hear. “That your knees are at optimal height for me to fuck up if you hurt him.” Jack felt a brief rush of fear, but quickly quelled it. He wasn’t going to hurt Eric. He liked him. He was determined to get better at this relationship thing. He nodded.

“For what it’s worth, I really don’t want to mess this up,” he told her. “And not just because my career apparently depends on it.” She actually cracked a real smile at that, just in time for them to reach Jack’s car.

The Falcs’ usual celebration bar was already packed when they got there, teeming with Falcs players and staff, fans, and most of the Aces. Tater had blessedly saved his and Jack’s usual booth at the back of the room and slid over to make room when he saw Jack approaching, holding Eric’s hand and Shitty and Lardo following close behind. 

“Holy mothefuck, are we about to hang with Alexi Mashkov?” Shitty asked in disbelief. 

“Be cool, babe,” Lardo soothed. “He’s just a guy. A giant guy. With s’wawesome hockey skills. But he’s just a guy, you can be chill.” Eric gave Jack an amused smile, gripping his fingers a little tighter. 

“Hey, Tater,” Jack said, sliding into the booth, pulling Eric in beside him. Lardo and Shitty crowded in on Tater’s side. “You remember Eric,” he said, settling his arm around Bitty’s shoulders. “And these are his friends, Lardo and Shitty.”

“Nice to be meeting you!” Tater boomed, slapping them both on the back. “And of course I remember bitty baker!" Tater pointed a giant finger at Eric. "Is still owing me cupcake.”

“Oh honey, just tell me your favorite kind of pie and I will ruin you for all other baked goods,” Eric promised.

“Yo Zimms, there you are!” Jack turned at the sound of Kent’s voice. He swallowed and tried to keep himself calm. He and Parse were good now. Parse _wanted_ to meet Eric. Sweet, likable, Eric. It would be fine.

“Hey Kenny,” he greeted, waving as much as he could without lifting his arm off of Eric’s shoulders. He and Eric sooched further into the booth so that Kent could sit down.

“So, you must be the new beaux,” Kent said, holding his hand out to shake with Bitty. Jack held his breath, as if their hands touching would unravel the space time continuum. Nothing happened though. Kent politely introduced himself to Shitty and Lardo (“Christ’s balls, what a night!” “Rans and Holtzy are gonna literally die of jealousy.”) and he made an extra special effort to be charming with Eric and introduce him to the Aces that stopped by to chat. Eric was radiant, gesturing expansively as he told stories that had Jack’s cheeks aching from smiling and Tater snort beer out his nose during one particularly memorable adventure from the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team.

When Kent stood up to go get the next round, he met Jack’s eyes over Eric’s head and mouthed _I like him._ Jack mouthed back _Me too,_ and pressed a kiss to Eric’s soft hair.


	5. At Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Bitty's domestic bliss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly just sex and the last kind of "chapter" officially, but I'm writing an epilogue. Comment below how far in the future you want it to jump!

Jack and Eric settled into each other’s lives easily. Both had been expecting some turbulence at the outset. They were busy people with pretty different lifestyles, but in practice they were surprisingly complimentary. Neither one of them could stay up late or sleep in long, so instead they found a comfortable rhythm of dinners and movie nights and falling asleep together by ten o’clock. 

Occasionally, Bitty would still book parties, but now Jack would be waiting up for him, not so much out of anxiety - Eric was quick to cancel if he got a bad vibe from a job - but he wanted to see his boyfriend. There was a certain way about him when he’d been dancing, a flush on his cheeks, a surety of movement that came from spending an hour or two as the most desired person in a room. And though Jack thought Eric was beautiful always, there was something fascinating about that particular version of him. He was so unapologetic, grinning at him like he had that first night in the living room, and the feeling of his hands pushing and pulling at Jack was overwhelming.

The first night Eric had come home to Jack after dancing at a bachelor party, he’d strolled into the room and frozen as the odd look on Jack’s face. He didn’t really have many different expressions, so to see one that was entirely new threw him for a loop. Eric braced himself for the uncomfortable talk he was pretty sure was coming - how Jack had really only been okay dating a part-time stripper when the stripping was only happening for him, that he was jealous of the client, that he thought monogamy would’ve “saved” him already. 

He’d asked, “Jack honey? What’s on your mind?” taking a seat on the bed beside him. Jack had swallowed, the click of his throat audible in the small space between them.

“I um...So.” Jack’s hands clasped together in his lap, and Eric watched his knuckles go from pink to white and back as he tried to ground himself. “You look good.” Eric blinked. 

“Huh?”

“Just, like...really confident. It’s…” Jack took a breath. “Sexy. You, um - I’m sorry.” Eric put his hands over Jacks, gently wiggling his fingers until Jack let go of himself and let Eric hold his hands.

“Honey what - I’m not following. Why are you sorry?” Jack looked up at him and made fleeting eye contact, quickly looking back to their hands. He did that sometimes. Looked Eric in the eyes to let him know he was listening, but couldn’t hold it when they were having serious conversations.

“I thought you might be mad. That I, euh, think you’re hot when you’ve been dancing. Because it’s not about me - I _know_ it’s not about me, and I have no right to, like...objectify what you do.” And oh good lord this boy. He looked like he positively wanted to sink into the carpet and disappear.

“Oh baby, no. I’m not - I’m not mad at you. The opposite, really. Most guys I’ve dated since I started doing this got really weird about the dancing thing after a while.” Eric squeezed Jack’s hands. “I promise I am not gonna have any problem with you being attracted to me.” Jack let out a breath and his shoulders relaxed.

“Okay.”

“Okay. Good.” Eric crawled into his lap, foregoing the pajamas he’d been planning to put on. “Now how’s about you show me just how hot you think all of this is,” he suggested, starting to twist his hips to the music that always seemed to exist in his head, startling a gasp out of Jack, who grabbed onto him immediately. They tumbled back onto the bed, kissing messily, and Jack demonstrated his appreciation _thoroughly_.

It had been a few weeks since that incident, and Jack was now pretty accustomed to having Eric around. They didn’t spend every night together, but Jack didn’t live much farther from the bakery than Eric did, so as long as the Falcs were in town, he tended not to bother going home after their dates. Jack felt incredibly spoiled.

Even moreso when he got things like his boyfriend wrapped in his arms on a rainy morning. Practice was optional, and Jack had never once taken that option, but he could hear the wind and the splatter of rain on his bedroom window. It was probably cold on top of the damp, and by the time he got home from practice, Eric would’ve gotten up and gone home to Lardo. So he texted Tater to let coach know he was bagging the day and he’d be in tomorrow. 

“Mph,” Eric grunted, burrowing into Jack’s chest as the movement of his arm reaching for the phone jostled the blankets, letting in a puff of cold air.

“Sorry Bits,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on top of blonde bed head. “Just letting the guys know I’m not gonna be there today.”

“Huh?”

“Optional skate,” he explained.

“Hmm.” Eric seemed ready to fall right back asleep, Jack’s body heat already restoring the warm bubble around them, but then his brain finally processed what had been said and he opened his eyes fully, looking up at Jack. “You’re actually taking it as optional? I thought you ate slept and breathed hockey?”

“Well, I still kind of eat and breathe hockey, but I’ve got better things to sleep for lately.” Eric smiled.

“Charmer.” Jack dipped down and kissed his lips, mouth closed to keep from exposing Bits to his morning breath.

“Every now and then I can whip out the Zimmermann charm.”

“The Zimmermann charm huh?”

“It’s a real thing!” he argued. Eric just hummed and slid his hand up and down Jack’s back, letting fingers trail down to the waistband of his underwear.

“What if I asked you to whip out somethin’ else?” Jack snorted a laugh.

“That’s terrible.” But then Eric shifted his hips and bumped the growing hardness in his shorts against Jack’s thigh and suddenly the quality of the pickup line had less than zero bearing on the results. “I will also do literally anything you want,” he said, hauling his boyfriend closer with a hand on his ass, and then both of them were laughing, pushing at what little clothing the other was wearing and bumping noses as they tried to wiggle free. Kicking the garments down to the end of the bed to be retrieved at a later time, they were finally naked, free to cling onto each other with nothing but expanses of bare skin. Jack went right for Eric’s neck, craving the feel of thin hot skin beneath his lips and teeth, wanting to pull out the sweet noises he always made.

“Oh! Mmm, I guess you’ve learned my weakness,” Eric murmured, relaxing into it and tilting his head to bear his throat more. One of his hands threaded itself into Jack’s hair, the other, still stuck a little awkwardly against the mattress, shifted towards Jack’s dick, reaching out to grasp the shaft, flutter fingers up over the head teasingly. There wasn’t much of a steady stroke he could get going while lying half on top of his own arm, but Jack shivered anyway, bucking his hips towards Eric’s hand. Taking hold of one of his thighs, Jack nudged him over on his back, fitting himself in between his spread legs.

Eric reached into Jack’s nightstand and scooped up the lube, squeezing out a dot on his hand and warming it up on his fingers before reaching for his and Jack’s dicks, slicking them up and stroking them together. 

“Bits,” Jack sighed, just barely holding himself up on his forearms. He honestly wanted to just flop down on top of Eric and let their bodies press together completely, even the tiny gap between their torsos too distant and cold in the brisk morning. “Can we - I -” Eric gave a twist on the upstroke and Jack groaned. “I really want to fuck you.”

“Oh god yeah,” Eric said, letting go of their dicks and handing the lube over to Jack, who laughed a little at him, smiling fondly down.

“Glad you’re amenable,” he chirped.

“Don’t you even,” Eric warned. For the sake of not ruining his own chances, Jack decided to shut up and slick his fingers. It was harder to prep him without sitting up to get a better look at what he was doing, but he’d learned his lesson about disrupting the blankets when it was chilly and he had no desire to learn it again. So with pretty minimal fumbling, he pressed a finger inside Eric, who sucked in a breath and let his eyes fall shut, arms wrapping around Jack’s back where he had full access to feel the muscles there or could reach down to grab a handful of legendary hockey butt. After working the first finger in and out a bit, Jack slipped a second in, and by the time he brushed Eric’s prostate, all concern for morning breath was gone and their mouths slotted together as a hurried third finger finished up. He tried to twist his fingers to rub just the way Eric liked, but the angle was pretty lousy, so he was pretty proud of the few moans he managed to wring out of him despite it. Eric nudged him away after a bit though, and Jack felt his arousal spike hot when Eric reached back into the nightstand for a condom. Call it a pavlovian response.

Since the hand that wasn’t holding Jack up was covered in lube, Bits took charge of condom application, and Jack smeared the extra lube on his dick. One of the more surprising aspects of a committed relationship: there was a lot more concern for the state of his linens than Jack was used to. He kissed Eric one more time, their noses smushing, and their grins when they pulled away were both bright and unrestrained. 

“You good to go?” Eric asked. Jack nodded, and Bits gave a pleased little shimmy, getting extra comfy. Before Eric it had never really occurred to Jack that sex could be so many different things, but with him it was hot and affectionate and silly. There was no pressure, just the desire to have their bodies closer, to feel skin and share breath. Jack wasn’t exactly thinking of this as he pushed into Eric, but he was very aware that it felt even more intense with the lingering sense memory of Eric inside him last night. 

“You feel amazing,” Jack whispered against Eric’s ear, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to savor the sensation.

“You say that every time,” Eric told him, laughing breathlessly.

“It’s true every time,” Jack argued, and started to move, effectively cutting off any rebuttal. He rolled his hips smoothly, less artful in his movements than Eric, but he liked to think he was pretty graceful for a hockey player. His partner at least seemed to have no complaints, sighing contentedly as Jack settled into a rhythm, Eric reaching one hand down to grab onto Jack’s ass and the other threading its way into his hair to drag their mouths together for a kiss. They couldn’t manage more than a smudge of lips on lips, but it was enough. Jack kept their bodies pressed as close as he could, Eric’s dick rubbing between their stomachs. The slide of damp skin was making them both so hot, and when Eric attached his mouth to Jack’s neck, he couldn’t bite back the moan that slipped out. “Ah, mm, Bits,” he nudged his forehead against Eric’s temple, felt himself about to hit the edge of orgasm and slowed to a stop to catch his breath.

“Oh my god why are you stopping?” 

“Sorry Bits, got too close. Just gotta…” Jack trailed off, taking a deep breath, nose pressed into Eric’s hair. An insistent heel pressed into the small of his back, and Eric’s hips began to shift, urging Jack to start thrusting again without thinking about it. “Eric, I -”

“Sweetheart, no, I’m close. I’m close, I can come, keep going,” he whispered, and Jack took him at his word, groaning in relief when he finally started moving in earnest. Eric’s hips rolled in time, trying to fuck himself harder on Jack’s dick. A particular adjustment of angle pulled a soft cry from his lips and Jack gripped his hip tight to keep them there, Eric writhing as Jack started to lose the precision of his movements. The moment Eric started to come, Jack fell apart as well, panting and bucking into the hot clench of Eric around him at the first wet spurt across his stomach.

They rocked lazily as they came down together, soft rolling movements until they were too over-sensitive and Jack pulled out, discarding the condom and settling on his side next to Eric, who hummed contentedly as he tucked himself against Jack’s chest. “Well,” he said, laughter in his voice. “This was a _lovely_ surprise.” Jack made a sound of agreement, nuzzling at Eric’s soft hair, bedhead outrageously exacerbated by their tumble in the sheets.

“I love you,” he murmured. Eric froze, shivered a little as the bedroom air pricked goosebumps on his skin, and Jack tugged the blankets back up around their shoulders. Somehow it was that act that made the words ring true, more than any amount of tender lovemaking or professions of affection. Eric pressed fingers into the space between Jack’s shoulder blades where the muscle was always knotted and promised, “I love you too.”


	6. Epilogue: The Bachelor Party

Jack had been adamant about not wanting a bachelor party. “It’s a stupid tradition,” he’d argued. “Based on the…” he snapped his fingers, trying to recall Shitty’s phrasing. “...based on the heteronormative, misogynist idea that committing yourself to a loving, lifetime partnership is somehow a trap where fun goes to die. If I wanted a night of debauchery that Eric can’t be part of, I shouldn’t be getting married in the first place!” Thirdy held up his hands in placation, and Tater patted Jack on the back.

“Kid,” Marty said. “We respect that and all, but come on. We’re not gonna throw you some off the wall rager, alright? It’s gonna be a bunch of us at Tater’s. Beer and karaoke situation, nothing unsavory.” Jack crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows.

“You swear? Cuz you promised the same thing for my birthday…”

“And you got a husband out of the deal! So cheer up, eh?” Marty slapped him on the back.

“Yeah, don’t worry, we’re not gonna get our baby rookie in trouble,” Thirdy assured him, catching him around the neck to drag him into a noogie. “You’ll be returned to your man tipsy and mildly embarrassed at the crack of 11:30 and then you’ll get married.”

“Easy squeezy,” Poots piped up. 

“Zimmboni,” Tater addressed him, and turned Jack to face him. “Will be fun party, I swear. Just let us celebrate with you, yes?” Jack looked deep into Tater’s eyes, searching for a hint of a joke in them. He appeared to be sincere, and so with a heavy sigh Jack agreed,

“Yes.” 

It was an agreement that he swiftly wished to take back upon finding out that Eric’s bachelor party plans involved a night of dancing with his college friends. And it wasn’t like he was _worried_ or _jealous_ or anything like that, it was just...Eric and dancing...or Poots drunkenly singing “You Give Love a Bad Name”...not a hard choice. But they’d both - reluctantly - promised that they’d separate for the night, and so with a lingering kiss and a sorrowful glance at the outfit Eric had laid out on the bed and Jack wouldn’t get to see, he ducked out of their bedroom and headed over to Tater’s place.

The party was set up in the backyard since it was so nice out, the guys from the team scattered around on patio chairs or floating in the pool, with the exception of Guy reluctantly sharing the hammock with Poots. All in all, it looked like a hundred other team barbeques he’s attended, and for that he was glad that Tater was hosting. It seemed like it wouldn’t be long at all before everyone forgot that it was technically Jack’s bachelor party. He thought he might even be able to sneak out behind the guys with kids and possibly get to distract Bitty while he got ready to go out.

As it turned out, the guys had no intentions of letting him off that easy. He was just about to make an Irish goodbye right behind Guy when Tater caught him with an arm around the shoulders, and a teasing, “Where you think you going, Zimmboni? Is not even dark yet.” Truthfully, it was just past sunset, the sky a fading dark blue, but Jack knew arguing details wasn’t going to get him back to Bitty any time soon. 

“You caught me,” he admitted, holding his hands up in surrender. Tater tutted at him and dragged him back to the pool where the unmarried, childless Falcs remained, ostensibly playing pool volleyball, but mostly just splashing around.

“Come play, yes? B will still be there tomorrow.”

“And the next day,” Snowy reminded him.

“And the next day, and the next day, and the next day…” Poots and the rookies went on and on until Jack finally cracked a smile and said,

“Okay, you guys are right. Sorry, this is a great party, I’m just being a grouch.”

“Wouldn’t have you any other way, man,” Snowy told him, raising his beer.

“Here here” the others agreed. Jack felt his face go warm. He really did love these guys.

“Um. The only problem I’m seeing here, is that I actually didn’t bring a swimsuit?” Jack backed away from Tater at the sight of his grin, fearing that it meant he was about to be tossed into the water clothes and all. Or that he was going to suggest skinny dipping.

“Well, is your party after all. So maybe we find something to do not in pool.”

“Tater if you even think the words ‘strip club’ I’m going to drown you, wet jeans be damned,” Jack threatened. Poots scoffed.

“Dude, I think we’ve all learned pretty well that dragging you to a strip club would one hundo percent go bad.” He hoisted himself out of the pool and grabbed his towel, starting to dry off. The others followed suit, and Jack started to get a creeping feeling that they knew something he didn’t.

“What’re you guys planning?” he asked, side-eyeing Tater. 

“Nothing, nothing. Just wanting you to have good time.” 

“Yeah dude, it’s your night,” Poots reassured. “We should do whatever’s gonna make it fun for you.”

“And I am already having plan,” Tater said. “Shoo shoo, go get dressed.” The boys all shuffled off into the house with their towels to get changed out of their swimsuits, and Tater turned to Jack. “You too, Zimmboni.”

So that was how Jack found himself shoved into the guest room he usually stayed in when he crashed with Tater, staring down a pile of familiar clothes. They consisted in a pair of jeans leftover from college and a t-shirt that had shrunk in the wash. Bitty had told him he wasn’t allowed to throw them out when they went through his closet prior to Bitty’s move-in. They’d made a scarce number of appearances when Bitty dragged him clubbing a couple times, or when Jack especially wanted to tease his boyfriend on a date. He figured this meant that they were going to a bar to carry out the “tipsy and mildly embarrassed” part of the night, and as much as he wanted to protest, it was obvious the guys were trying to do a good job organizing a fun bros’ night out, so he obediently got dressed and met the boys downstairs. With a not insignificant amount of noise, Lyfts were called and piled into, and they were off.

Despite all of Jack’s prayers that this was leading up to some karaoke and maybe getting his ass beat at darts in a dingy sports bar, the cars dropped them off in front of a club spilling neon light and thumping music into the street. Tater threw an arm around him again and led all of them around the line. Tater and the bouncer exchanged a few words that Jack already couldn’t hear over the music, but he was pretty sure he caught “Falconers” and “married” in there somewhere. They were quickly let inside to where the music was impossibly louder, the lights on the dancefloor making everything alternately far too dim and painfully bright. By the time they made it past the coat check booth, hands freshly stamped, Tater didn’t need to worry about Jack wandering off anymore, as he was clinging to his friend like his life depended on it. The dancers around them were sweaty and drunk, the floor already a little sticky from spilled drinks, and Jack was getting increasingly uncomfortable with the amount of strange bodies colliding with him, even with Tater as an enormous human shield. He was feeling like “the crack of 11:30” was going to be pretty tough to hold out for if this was the plan for the rest of the night.

Their journey through the writhing masses of dancers seemed to end at a curtain that promised to lead to the VIP section. Jack had always thought that VIP areas were kind of stupid, after all what’s some dude with a velvet rope and a clipboard got to say about who’s cool and who’s not, but the promise of an even marginally less packed space and possibly even a place to sit down was pretty tantalizing. What was waiting for him was so much better.

Inside was packed with all of the guys who’d supposedly gone home, a few friends from the admin side of the team including George, and a large cluster of people that Jack had met over the course of his and Eric’s relationship as players and alumni of the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team. The assembled group yelled “SURPRISE!” and threw handfuls of confetti, a liberal coating of which was already littering the floor. Completely frozen in shock, Jack took in the balloons and streamers decorating the room, the obviously homemade “CONGRATULATIONS” banner hanging above them. And then Eric broke through the crowd, shoving aside Holster and Marty to get a look at Jack, whose heart was thundering in his chest. His fiance was so beautiful, even with tear tracks on his cheeks and his face already starting to go red from the way he was crying again, and his friends were so good, they knew him so well to know that he couldn’t enjoy this night properly without Eric.

Eric crashed into him, throwing arms around his waist, and Jack just had to kiss him, couldn’t even think about it first. Their lips slotted together and all around them, friends whistled and chirped them, and somehow those assholes being there to witness it made everything even better. 

“Honey,” Eric breathed as they pulled apart. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too, bud. It wasn’t gonna be the same without you.” Eric sniffed and wiped at his eyes, Jack reaching to help him because there really were a lot of tears _god_ tomorrow was going to be messy. “Our friends are the best!” he shouted so they would all be sure to hear, and with one last stolen kiss, they let their friends drag them into the celebration.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is much appreciated! If you have any thoughts you would like to share (any at all, seriously) just post a comment- I'd love to hear from you. Or, you can come join me on tumblr as latticeontop!


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